


debauchery

by Anonymous



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Bottom Arthur Morgan, Consent Issues, Crying, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, M/M, Young Arthur Morgan, like very dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22423294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Arthur is drunk, sad and willing. Dutch doesn't let the opportunity to go to waste.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde, Mentions of Annabelle/Dutch van der linde, Mentions of Mary Gillis/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 113
Collections: Anonymous





	debauchery

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for this
> 
> -  
> Russian translation available here, translated by Zola_116
> 
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/9225239/23621341

He’s almost fallen asleep when he hears Arthur stumble into camp, hears him mumbling to himself even from the other side of the meadow they reside in. Annabelle stirs next to him and blinks her eyes open. “What’s wrong?” she asks. 

“Nothing at all, my sweet, just Arthur coming back. Go to sleep again, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

He kisses her forehead and rises up, puts his pants back on so that he at least looks somewhat decent and walks outside. “Arthur?” he calls out as soft as he can, not wanting to disturb Annabelle any further.   
  
Arthur is swaying in the middle of camp, looking drunk of his ass. Dutch sighs. “Have you been drinking?” 

Arthur doesn’t respond, and now he can see that Arthur is _crying_. The mild irritation he felt turns to worry in an instant. 

“Are you alright son?” Dutch asks, and this only seems to make Arthur cry even harder.   
  
“Mary,” he finally chokes out. “She left me, Dutch.” 

_Oh_. 

“Oh, son”, he says. “I am sorry to hear that.” 

He isn’t surprised. It was foolish of Arthur to think that it would work out. Mary Gillis wasn’t the type of woman to settle down with the likes of Arthur, he had tried to make Arthur see that, but he was blind in love with Hosea cheering him on. 

  
“I was gonn’ marry her, Dutch,” Arthur whines and sways. Dutch just manages to catch him before he face-plants into the ground. It’s not an easy task, but Dutch begins to manhandle Arthur towards his tent, all while Arthur sobs and mumbles about Mary. “I was gonna,” Arthur repeats. 

Arthur had been so happy after the girl had accepted his proposal, Bessie had helped him pick out a ring suiting the girl’s standards and Hosea had instructed him in how to woo her, given him advice in what words to make her swoon. And now both of them were off being cozy in some cabin miles away while Dutch had to deal with the fallout of them giving Arthur too much hope. 

Hosea had joked about Dutch being jealous of Mary hoarding all Arthur's attention when he had tried to warn them both that Mary wasn’t like them. Bessie came from a nice family too, but she had some spirit, that’s why Hosea managed to steal her away. Mary was a meek girl loyal to her family, to their reputation, and wouldn’t ever consider abandoning all that, even for a pretty boy like Arthur. This had just proven him right. 

He guides Arthur into a sitting position on the bedroll and tries to calm the boy down. Dealing with feelings had always been Hosea’s forte, he had always been better at comforting the boy, much to Dutch’s annoyance. 

“No one wants me,” Arthur sobs, and it breaks him away from his thoughts. “Not my pa, not Mary, not Hosea.” 

Dutch curses Hosea for having the bad timing of leaving, but knows it’s unfair on him because the man was hardly a fortune teller, he couldn’t have predicted Mary leaving Arthur just two weeks after he and Bessie decided they wanted out of this life. 

“That’s not true, son,” he says, but Arthur seems inconsolable. 

“Everyone leaves me, Dutch,” he continues to cry. 

He grasps Arthur’s chin and forces him to look up. “I won’t ever leave you,” he promises, “I will always want you by my side.” 

Arthur sniffles, but at least he had stopped crying. “She left me, Dutch.” 

It’s endearing, how confused Arthur seemed to be. “I know that, son, you’ve told me.” he reminds him.   
  
“She left me ‘cus I didn’t wanna leave you.” 

The confession startles him at first, then a warm feeling rises in his chest when he realizes that Arthur had chosen him over Mary. His strong, beautiful son choosing loyalty over love. 

He hadn’t realized just how much he adored Arthur until now. 

“My sweet, sweet son,” he whispers, cradling Arthur’s face. “What would I do without you?”   
  
“Couldn’t leave you,” Arthur repeats, “Never.” 

Arthur’s cheeks are flushed from the alcohol, his lips red and swollen, his eyelashes dark and clumped together from all the tears. He has some snot running down his nose, which he wipes away with the sleeve of his arm when he notices Dutch staring. 

And Dutch is staring, because now he sees Arthur in a whole new light, it’s like a door has been opened for him and now he can’t look away. 

Arthur looks absolutely stunning like this. There is just something about him crying and being all delicate and sensitive that is intoxicating, and with Arthur’s confession spurring him on, he leans in and presses his lips against Arthur’s own. They taste of salt and whiskey and of something else that is entirely Arthur. 

Suddenly his brain catches up with what he’s doing, and he scrambles away. “Shit,” he curses, and Arthur flinches from the sudden movement, tears starting to fall from his eyes again. “I am sorry, son, I shouldn’t have-” 

And this time it’s Arthur that grabs the collar of his shirt and presses his lips against his, planting a sloppy, drunken kiss that almost misses his mark. “Please Dutch,” he hiccups, “Please.” 

Arthur doesn’t need to ask twice, Dutch already on his way to kiss him again, kissing the tears away from his face, feeling himself grow warm all over when he hears Arthur’s whimpers. Somewhere in the back of his mind Dutch knows that this is wrong, Arthur is drunk and heartbroken, Dutch shouldn’t abuse the poor boy’s trust like that. He always prided himself of being a thinker, a good man, but he knows deep down that his instincts and desires always would win over what he knew was right. 

And when he really thought things through, what harm could it do to indulge the boy? By the looks of it, he wouldn’t remember much in the morning. 

Dutch pushes Arthur down so that Arthur is lying on his back with Dutch almost straddling him.   
“I really loved her, Dutch” he says, the words coming out all slurred. He sniffles. “I really loved her.” 

His strong, beautiful son who could snap a grown man's neck and who still cried like a child when having his heart broken. 

“I know you did, son,” he responds and unbuttons the boy's pants. “It’s gonna be alright.” 

Hosea would absolutely kill him if he ever found out, but he isn’t here now, Dutch thinks as he slips his hand down Arthur’s pants, off playing family with _Bessie._

Hell, Annabelle probably would too if she would hear them, she had always been soft on the boy, they couldn't afford to be loud so he silences Arthur with a deep kiss as he wraps his fingers around his hardening cock, he feels Arthur moan in his mouth, hears how his breath quickens when Dutch begins to stroke him. Arthur is pliant underneath him, his arms uncoordinated when trying to unbutton Dutch’s shirt. Dutch gently moves his arms away with his free hand, lets his thumb glide over the tip of Arthur’s cock with the other and almost laughs at how his back arches. 

He wishes he could live in this moment forever, with his protégé warm, soft and gasping beneath him. He lets his mouth once again descend on Arthur, sucking and nibbling on his neck as Arthur spills his seed in his hand, almost comes in his pants untouched when he sees Arthur’s face and imagines his plump lips around his cock. 

Perhaps there would be a time for that some other day, he thinks Arthur would be good at it, or perhaps he would have to train him to do it properly. Arthur would let him do anything; he had realized that tonight. 

Arthur makes an attempt to touch Dutch again, most likely to get him off as well, but he firmly pushes Arthur’s hands down once again. “I can take care of that myself,” he chuckles. He presses a kiss against Arthur’s temple. “You should just rest now, son.” He wipes off his hand on Arthur’s pants and buttons them again. When Dutch gets up to leave Arthur is already passed out cold. 

He makes sure to take care of his own erection before he climbs down again in his and Annabelle’s bed, happy to hear her soft snoring, he knows she would have a lot of questions in store for him if she saw his disheveled state. 

With her warm body in his arms and with Arthur’s face on his mind, sleep has never come easier. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you find any errors please let me know, this isnt my first language  
> this was gonna be a early prequel to this fic, but i decided to post it as an independent fic instead  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22315447


End file.
